Of Justice and Mercy
by TakeYouBySurprise055
Summary: When the mother happens to have been a dead prisoner, and the father is powerful (a ruler, to be exact), the scorn of society finds its target in the bastard child. Trianna knows this, knows all about it. How then can the Just King of Narnia turn his back on her?
1. A Warning

**Of Justice and Mercy**

**Summary (full)-**** When the mother happens to have been a dead prisoner, and the father is powerful (a ruler, to be exact), the scorn of society finds its target in the bastard child. Trianna knows this, knows all about it. In Calormen, where women are treated, at best, as trophies, or worse, as toys, the Lady Trianna's days pass in concealing herself from the public eye, and her nights pass in enduring the treatment of the Crown Prince Rabadash. In enduring her emotional torment, her mental agony and her half-brother's sexual cruelty, her life hurries past her. How, then, can the Just King of Narnia turn his back on her?**

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"Make way, make way! Way for His Majesty, King Edmund the Just, brother of the High King of Narnia! Make way for Her Majesty, Queen Susan the Gentle, sister to King Edmund and the High King of Narnia!"

Neither royal missed the whispers underneath the cheers, the shifting eyes, the smirks and scoffs. They were, after all, 'the barbarians'. But they were also, after all, guests of the Tisroc, and so the crowds cheered and threw flowers to them, strewed the road with petals, and they in turn waved and smiled as though they were greeting their very own subjects.

"They seem to be an… unpleasant crowd." Edmund observed to Susan, a bright smile pasted on his face.

"Oh, don't say that." She remonstrated. "Not all of them… you're having _quite_ the impression on the young ladies, brother."

Her brother scoffed, then looked ahead. "Here we are, Susan." He dismounted, and helped his sister to do the same. "The court of the Tisroc."

Susan coloured prettily. "Lead the way, please."

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'_That went well.'_ Edmund thought, thoroughly irritated. If 'well' entailed Rabadash sending his sister gentle looks and smiles throughout the meeting… he still didn't see what Susan saw in the man.

"There's that ball tomorrow, Ed." Susan said on the way back to their quarters. "So don't get into a mess doing whatever you normally do."

He groaned. "Just when I was planning to go hawking, or something. But I don't see why I should come; Rabadash won't miss _me_."

"Don't be foolish." Susan said with dignity. "You know perfectly well that it's in _our_ honour, so you _will_ come!"

"Alright, alright…"

* * *

"Your Highness, there is a lady who wishes to speak to you. Should I say that you are otherwise engaged?"A guard asked, observing his master busily writing a letter.

"Send her in." Edmund barely looked up from his note to Peter. "And where is the Queen?"

The guard glanced at Oreius. It was the centaur who replied. "With the Calormene Prince, Sire."

Edmund grunted his displeasure.

Moments later, soft footsteps made him look up. Seeing the visitor, he pushed his chair back and rose, with his hands clasped behind his back.

The woman dropped her eyes from his face, and curtseyed in the Calormene style. "King Edmund." She murmured.

He bowed. "A pleasure, my lady."

She offered no introduction of herself. "King Edmund," She began. "I have come to say-" She glanced around, and her eyes alighted on Oreius. They widened, and she looked down again. "What I mean is, I have come to advise- forgive me, to warn you…" She bit her lip as the King stared at her, and eyebrow raised.

"Well, my lady?"

She breathed in softly. "I _must_ tell you, sire. I urge you… not to allow your sister to marry the- the Crown Prince!"

Edmund and Oreius stared at her. The latter spoke first. "With your permission, sire… my lady, how came you to think that the Queen is in any danger of such a thing?"

She flinched at being addressed by a hitherto unknown… creature. It was a few moments before she could reply. "I happen to have a… a connection of sorts with the Tisroc and the Crown Prince, and it was from them that I understood that… it was hoped for, and even- even expected."

Edmund finally spoke. "My lady, would it be too much to enquire of you _why_ you have, as you said, 'warned' me?"

She flushed, and he thought she would cry. But her voice was quite steady when she replied: "Your Highness… forgive me, but it- it _would_ be too much to ask! Do not press me for my reason- only heed me."

"I shall consider of your words, my lady, and I thank you for having troubled yourself to come here." Edmund said, silencing Oreius with a glance.

She bowed her head once. "I thank the King."

She approached him, knelt, and kissed both his hands, in the custom of the women of Calormen; something Edmund would never get used to.

He retained one of her hands in a firm grip as she rose, and raised it to his lips. "I believe I am as yet ignorant of my lady name?"

Her eyes were on their hands, and she looked baffled. She raised them to his at his question, and lowered them at once. "Trianna, your Highness."

He kissed her hand then. "I thank you for honouring me with your visit, Lady Trianna." He bowed.

She backed away when he released her hand. "My- the honour is mine, you Majesty." She curtseyed.

"Until we meet again, then." He flashed her a fleeting smile.

"Yes." She whispered, wondering when that would be. She hurried from the room.

As she walked through the streets of Tashbaan, she pulled her hood and cloak closer around her, the better to hide herself. It was getting darker, as the warm evening deepened into twilight, but Trianna still did not wish to be recognized.

She reached her home, and straightaway came to dinner. Afterwards, she lay on her bed, thinking…

…She was unused to such courtesy, such kindness; in Calormen, women were not held by the hand, unless as arm-pieces on occasions; women were not kissed, save in bed. They were not thanked for honouring men with their company…

"Get up."

Trianna closed her eyes as she rose

_I did not even hear him come in._

In the brief moment before her bodice and night-trousers were ripped from her, before an oil-lamp was lit and she had to open her eyes, she wished herself elsewhere. Anywhere but here. Preferably in…

Then the first blow fell, upon her bound breasts, and there was no time left to think.

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	2. Tisroc's Bastard

**Of Justice and Mercy**

**Chapter Two**

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own Narnia, C. S. Lewis does. All original characters are mine, though.**

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When she opened her eyes, the sunlight was harsh and bright on her uncovered body. She was alone, and thankful for that.

Every part of her moaned in pain as she rose from her bed. She clutched a bathrobe loosely around her and hobbled to the bathroom. "Brigidrine!" She called weakly.

"Brigidrine!"

After a few minutes, a woman pushed the door open and entered. "You called, my lady." She was rather old, and shriveled, but her eyes were sharp and penetrating.

"Draw a bath for me." She ordered. Brigidrine complied, and as soon as the water was warm enough, Trianna entered it.

"A message arrived for you, my Lady. From the court of the Tisroc (may he live forever!). An invitation to the ball tonight, in honour of the barbarian King and Queen. Regards from the Tisroc (may he live forever!), your father." Brigidrine informed her as she shampooed her hair and massaged her limbs.

A ball. Trianna enjoyed dancing, but Calormene men so rarely offered to stand up with her. Calormene social occasions were things she tended to avoid. Who could she talk to? Who talked to her?

Then again, if she went, she could see and judge for herself how seriously the Narnian King had taken her.

"I would be honoured to attend."

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"Oh my father and oh the delight of mine eyes," Trianna proclaimed, curtseying deeply. "May you live forever!"

"Oh my daughter and oh the joy of mine heart," The Tisroc's curled lip and glittering eyes spoke of exactly opposite sentiments. "We welcome you."

"Mine purpose is served; mine soul is honoured." She replied, not looking up, but rising and moving to stand with the other ladies. There was some shuffling and giggling and whispering among them, and she felt herself flush. She barely managed to look the two Narnians in the face as introductions were being made.

"The Lady Trianna; King Edmund and Queen Susan of Narnia."

"I am honoured." She murmured, curtseying to the Queen. Up close, she seemed even more beautiful, and far more intimidating.

"My pleasure, Lady Trianna." Susan said sweetly.

"So we meet again, my lady." Edmund murmured, kissing her hand. Susan threw her a sharp glance. "How do you find yourself?"

"Well, sire. And you?" She sounded breathless, Edmund noticed.

"Well, indeed. I am delighted to see you again."

"As am I." She managed a smile, and moved on.

Soon the music began, and Trianna found herself sitting out, as usual. Everyone else was dancing- everyone who could, at least- and she knew she must look more than a little strange.

Rabadash was dancing with the Queen, and Susan looked radiant. Either the King had told her nothing of Trianna's warning, or Susan had not credited it. Rabadash's courtship seemed to be progressing finely, and Trianna felt something twist in her gut. It was fear. She feared for the Gentle Queen.

The King was dancing with one of the ladies of the court. Trianna should have known her name, but she couldn't for the _life_ of her remember. As though it mattered. She turned her thoughts elsewhere.

Her musings kept her occupied so long and so deeply that she failed to notice the person who approached her. "Am I perhaps interrupting something?"

She started, and looked around: there was the King. She rose immediately. "Sire."

"Oh no, do remain seated. I did not mean to startle you, my lady." He waited till she had resumed her seat, then himself sat beside her.

She regarded him, he thought, with a shade of reserve in her eyes. "Your Majesty should go and dance." She said at last.

"I'm not too fond of it." He replied. "Why aren't you there, then?"

She shrugged, a delicate, ladylike movement of one shoulder, then winced.

"What is the matter, my lady?" The King rose to his feet, alarmed.

"Nothing- nothing, Your Majesty."She replied, barely managing to repress a shudder of pain. "It was nothing, I apologize for alarming you, Sire."

"So you have met my daughter, King Edmund."

Trianna immediately bowed her head, heart hammering.

"I have, your Majesty. I was thoroughly enjoying her company." Edmund replied, standing. Trianna imitated him.

"Very good. But why are you not dancing, Your Majesty? Many young ladies are eagerly awaiting an opportunity to-"

"You are quite right, Your Majesty. I was on the point of asking Lady Trianna if she would care to stand up with me?" He turned his eyes on Trianna, who nodded mutely.

"How nice. Well, enjoy one another's company." The Tisroc said with a thin smile, walking away.

The music paused awhile for a new set to form, then started again.

"My lady dances beautifully." Edmund said in her ear, as he pulled her close to that her face was very close to his.

"Thank you, your Majesty." He was holding her right on the bruise on her back, and it was agonizing. Her arms and legs cried out in protest as she spun and twirled with him spiritedly, but the small smile did not leave her face.

A dance was the only time a Calormene woman could freely look a man in the face, so she did not miss the opportunity. He was decidedly handsome, with dark hair and eyes, and beautiful black eyes, at that. His colouring was overall striking: those dark hair and eyes against his fair Narnian skin, and the reddest lips she had seen on a man. Yes, he was handsome.

With a final chord, the song ceased, and the set broke up. The King led her to a seat on the edge of the room. "Allow me to fetch something for you to drink, my lady." He said, pressing her hand and leaving her for the moment.

Trianna had never enjoyed herself so much in recent memory. Edmund was excellent company. He now returned with two drinks, and their conversation resumed.

But of course, such utter bliss never really lasts.

As a group of young ladies passed them, they caught the words of one very clearly: "…nothing to fear from _her_, after all she is nothing but the Tisroc's Bastard…"

Trianna's grip on her wineglass tightened, and she bit her lip. She grew hot with shame and embarrassment, and knew herself to be blushing furiously. "Your Majesty, I fear it is time for me to go home."

Edmund scrutinized her closely with concern. The woman's words seemed to have deeply affected her, and he did not press her to stay. He offered her his hand as she rose from the chair. "I will attend you to your litter."

She nodded, too overcome to speak or even look at him. As they passed out of the ballroom, a servant came up to them. "The lady's litter, if you please." Edmund ordered.

As the palanquin bobbed up, Edmund turned to her. "I told Susan what you said. About the Prince. She refused to believe me."

"I had to try." Her voice was muffled as she continued to look at the ground.

He looked at her litter and suddenly frowned. "You intend to depart unattended? Are you not afraid?"

It was then that she looked up at him, and though there was a smile on her face, it was forced, and her eyes oozed bitterness. "I may be a bastard, Your Majesty, but I do still belong to the Tisroc. Goodnight, and you have my thanks for your trouble."

"It was none at all, my lady. Goodnight, and may better health attend you." He replied, kissing her hand.

She dropped to her knees and took his hands. But suddenly Edmund pulled them away. He took her by the shoulders and raised her up.

"In my country, my lady, women do not kneel before men." He said firmly.

She stared at him with an unfathomable expression. "Goodnight, Your Majesty." She finally said, curtseying.

"Goodnight, Lady Trianna." He inclined his head, and assisted her into the palanquin. The footman drew the curtains immediately.

Her home was only a little distance from the palace, but to Trianna, the journey seemed interminable. She sat alone in the darkness of the palanquin (she had assured Brigidrine that she had no need of her abigail at this ball), with her heart full and much oppressed. Only when left in the safety of her room, after Brigidrine had undressed her, did she flop gracelessly onto the bed and wring out the few tears that would come.

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